The bride filled a noggin, young Pat took it up, He tipped off the whisky, then threw down the cup; She looked down to sneeze, then looked up so sly, Wid a pipe in her mouth, and a patch on her eye; He took her red hand, ere her mother could bar, “Here goes for a jig now,” says Paddy Dunbar. So big was his form, and so red was her face, That nivir a stall such a couple did grace; While the mother did fret, and the father did fume, And the bridegroom lay drunk at the end of the room: And the bride-gossips whispered, “’twere better by far, To have matched our fair cousin with Paddy Dunbar.” One wink o’ the eye, and one word in the ear, When they reached the street door, and found the coast clear; So light to his shoulder swate Norah he flung, So swift o’er the gutter before him he sprung, “We are gone, she is mine, over post, rail, and bar, They’ll have long legs that catch us,” said Paddy Dunbar. There was rousing and growling in Mulrooney’s clan, The Murphys and Donovans up and they ran; There was racing and chasing, a deuce of a spree, But the illigant Norah no more did they see: So daring in love, and so plucky in war, Och, a broth of a boy now was Paddy Dunbar. ―――― THE STAR. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing Sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveller in the dark Thanks you for your tiny spark: He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye, Till the Sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark Lights the traveller in the dark, Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star. _Ascribed to Miss Taylor._ ―――― MICA, MICA. Mica, mica, parva Stella; Miror, quænam sis tam bella! Splendens eminus in illo, Alba velut gemma, coelo. Quando fervens Sol discessit, Nec calore prata pascit, Mox ostendis lumen purum, Micans, micans, per obscurum. Tibi, noctu qui vagatur, Ob scintillulam gratatur; Ni micares tu, non sciret Quas per vias errans iret. Meum sæpe thalamum luce Specularis curiosa; Neque carpseris soporem, Donec venit Sol per auram. HENRY DRURY. From _Arundines Cami_. 1851. ―――― TO A LONDON CHURCH BELL. Tinkle, tinkle, horrid bell! How I hate your dismal knell! From your church’s tower so high Plaguing all the dwellers nigh. Ere the shades of night are gone, Ere the sun earth shines upon, You begin with morning light Tinkle, tinkle, till the night.